Slow Show
by callmebluetoo
Summary: Slow Show: "You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years..." Blair Waldorf returns to New York at 29, and Chuck has been preparing for this chance for a lifetime. Blair/Chuck. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: "You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years..." Blair Waldorf returns to New York at 29, and Chuck has been preparing for this chance for a lifetime.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Gossip Girl, Blair, or Chuck.

*****************************

It was too easy to love New York in the autumn. The trees in the city were trimmed in ombre crimson, and the slight breeze could, at any moment, sweep under those ubiquitous Burberry trench coats to provide the most delicious sort of refreshment. I was standing on the terrace of the Waldorf-Rose home, looking out over Manhattan, and that fall wind swirled around me to settle around my neck like the silk scarf I had tried to forget.

It had been twelve years. Tonight was my twenty-ninth birthday, and my life was almost how I had imagined it. I had graduated Yale in 2012, a year ahead of schedule, and then finished my MBA at the Wharton School before completing an advanced degree program at the London School of Economics while establishing my career. No one was surprised that I had a head for business, and I'd created a name for myself in real estate, seizing buildings in disrepair and restoring them to coveted properties with historical integrity and classical charm. I was Blair Waldorf, period, and it was no longer necessary to add my mother and father's successes in my introduction.

Serena said I looked liked I hadn't aged a day since my eighteenth birthday, and maybe that was true. I had embraced a new sort of lifestyle at college, with clean eating and regular exercise. I was a runner now and my mother had wrinkled her nose when I'd told her about my runs in the countryside of England. She didn't understand how I could be addicted to something other than French coffee or hand-edged lace, but I hadn't elaborated. My runs were easy to maintain, an hour each day of no thinking, just the wind on my face and the pounding of my feet beating a steady, predictable rhythm.

I hadn't wanted to come back to New York. It would be too easy to fall into my old patterns, and I'd felt my resistance slipping already when I had brunch with Serena earlier today, listening to her anecdotes about life with Brooklyn and the daily delights of marriage and children. My new office was across from the Palace Hotel and I'd positioned myself with my back against the window. There are some views that cost too much.

"Blair!"

Serena tumbled out onto the terrace, still all golden hair and rosy cheeks. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside, back to the preparations for the party. I'd agreed to get ready in my old bedroom but told myself that I was going back to my new apartment after the party. There were too many memories in that bedroom, and every time I walked inside it I almost thought I'd see him sitting there, broken and vulnerable and needing me.

"What are you wearing tonight?"

I pulled the dress out of my wardrobe. "I was thinking about this one," I said, watching her face light up. The dress was a dark midnight navy, a slim knee-length silk sheath with impeccable detailing. The strapless neckline had a subtle origami detail with a slight sweeping curve.

"B, it's gorgeous!" Serena clapped her hands. "You know I love my life, but you—you are the belle of the ball. Great job, killer body, a suitor that most girls in New York would die for—"

"Ben is not my suitor." I interrupted. "I told you a million times, we're just friends."

"Blair, he is head over heels for you! Didn't you say he wrote you every day you were in London?"

"Yes," I agreed, "but he's just a nice guy. That's all."

"Well," she trilled, "I think it's more than that. I wouldn't be surprised if he up and proposed to you."

"Serena Humphrey!" I gasped. "Come on! Ben and I kissed once, a long time ago. I promise you, I don't have time for dating, let alone a secret love affair."

"You might need to make time after he sees you in that dress," she retorted.

"Well," I played along, "I'm also wearing new La Perlas and the pewter Jimmy Choos."

She put her hand to her forehand and fell onto my bed.

*****************************

Later, I sat in front of my vanity in that dress, thinking about how he'd knelt before me, how he'd taken my hand and kissed a promised of someday into my lips. And just like that day, I wiped away my tears and looked down at my ruby ring. I breathed in a slow, deep intake of air and studied my reflection.

I touched my bare collarbone and paused. For a moment I felt the necklace there, but then my fingers touched the empty air and I realized I was dreaming again. It was harder to be back here than I'd anticipated. His ghost was everywhere, all around me, and I couldn't ignore him. And for the first time in nearly twelve years, I acted without thinking, pulling out the jewelry box and clasping the diamonds around my neck. The heart brushed my clavicle like a lover.

*****************************

I hesitated at the top of the staircase. I could tell by the sound of the people below that it was a lovely party, all candles and peonies and champagne. Cyrus had insisted that he give a toast in my honor, and my mother had insisted that I wait to descend the staircase. Like a second debutante ball, I thought, and my fingers closed around the banister.

I heard Cyrus talking about my accomplishments. Sometimes, when I hear about my life, it feels like another person is living it. It's not the fairy tale I'd imagined with Nate, or the one I'd believed was real with him, but it's a good life. When I introduce myself to people, their eyes flicker and I know they are glad to meet me.

I heard my cue and started down the stairs, feeling graceful in my dark silver heels. I looked perfect. I could just tell. My hair fell in loose waves down my back, my eyes were big and bright, and my legs were long and toned from running. I kept my head up and felt the necklace brush against my skin and my whole body tingled with anticipation.

Cyrus said my name and the crowd turned to me, champagne glasses raised in a toast. I smiled shyly and gave a small nod as they all drank in unison. The room had a rosy glow from the professional lighting and hundreds of candles, and I swept my gaze over the crowd, over all my friends and family, over the society of New York. And then he stepped out of the shadows and we locked eyes.

Someone handed me a crystal champagne flute and the crowd disappeared as I kept my eyes on him, sure he would vanish. Instead, he raised his own champagne glass to me and smiled, one edge of his lip curling upwards. He wore a dark navy suit that matched my dress, and my hand flew up to touch the diamond necklace around my neck. He saw my gesture and his facial expression changed, the intensity in his eyes apparent from across the room. He started to move toward me and I panicked, spinning around to grab Serena.

"Blair!" she said happily.

"S," I said, and the desperation in my voice scared me, "he's here. Cover for me."

I slipped past her and into the kitchen, navigating through the narrow hallways until I was in another ballroom. All the lights were out and the room was lit only with the hazy glow of the Manhattan moon. I touched the window's cold glass and my breath formed fog on the pane. My shoulders tensed and I knew he was there with me.

"Waldorf."

I turned to face him. "Bass."

*****************************

I've thought about our reunion hundreds of times. When he first left, I'd pictured him coming to my room in the middle of the night, whispering apologies and returning those three words before we'd make love and fall asleep in each other's arms. At Yale, I'd imagined him as a guest speaker in one of my business classes, and after his lecture he'd flirt with me over drinks and we'd make out like teenagers in his limousine, exchanging those eight letters desperately, saying them over and over between gasps for air. In London, I'd think about running into him on the street in the rain and he would wrap me in his trench coat and brush the rain and the tears from my cheeks and tell me he loved me, that he always had and always would.

Chuck—or Charles, maybe—looked better than I'd imagined. He'd filled out a little, and his shoulders were broader, but he strode toward me with that same catlike grace and his cheekbones sliced through the space between us. He was still beautiful, I saw, and the realization both thrilled me and sent a nervous chill through my bones.

He was close to me now, and he touched my waist gently with his fingertips. The motion surprised me. Then he brought his other hand up to touch the other side of my waist and, very softly, pulled me to him. Our bodies touched and I felt seventeen again, all butterflies and so very alive, wearing a party dress and his necklace.

"You're here," he said quietly, and it wasn't a question but rather an expression of muted surprise.

"It's my party," I explained, and he smirked.

"Blair, I could never forget your birthday." He lifted one hand and touched my necklace—his necklace—grazing my flushed skin with the pad of his thumb.

I reached up and caught his hand in mine. He curled his fingers around my wrist and stroked my skin. Our eyes met and I could feel my eyes welling up. I shook my head, trying to compose myself, and pulled my hand away.

"What do you think you're doing here?" I said.

"I want you," he said, his voice dark and husky. "I've been wanting you for twenty-nine years, Blair."

I wanted to say something hurtful, something that would tear him apart, make him cry, but he was stepping toward me again and touching my face and I couldn't say anything at all.

"Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life," he rasped, and his voice broke a little. "I've spent all this time building a life, but it's nothing without you in it."

"You can't do this to me!" The words burst out of me. "You can't just show up here after all this time and think it'll all be the same."

"It's not the same," he interrupted. He touched my cheeks and lifted my gaze to meet him. "It will be so much better."

My knees felt weak underneath me and I leaned into him. Our foreheads touched and his soft caramel eyes studied my expression carefully.

"If you say you haven't thought of me," he whispered, "I'll go."

"No," I said quickly, and a small smile flashed across his lips. "No," I repeated, more softly. "You know I've thought of you, Bass."

"I have a birthday present for you," he said, and he reached into his pocket. I strained to see in the dim ballroom, and then, he knelt before me. "It'll be different this time, Waldorf. Because this time, I'm ready, and I can say that I love you, and I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Blair."

My first thought was that I must be dreaming, that maybe the shock of being back in New York had resulted in a psychotic break. And then a shiver went through me and I felt him holding my hand, and I could see his eyes shining up at me. Without warning, the main lights to the ballroom sprang on and I blinked, but he was still there. Dimly, I heard a gasp in the background but I kept my eyes locked on his, and he gave me a small nod, still holding the open jewelry box with a sparkling diamond ring.

My heart was screaming yes, but my mind flashed back to the last time he'd promised me someday. He would leave again, my mind said, and then where will you be? I heard my name and I turned toward the entrance. Serena was pressed against the wall, and Chuck squeezed my hand a little tighter.

I looked back at him. He was still on one knee and I couldn't help it, a tear slipped down my cheek. I pulled my hand out of his grasp and ran out of the ballroom, pushing past Serena and wiping the tears away as I went back into my party.

*****************************

I paused just inside the decorated ballroom and took in a deep breath. I saw Ben coming toward me—Ben, with his light brown hair and clear blue eyes in an impeccable charcoal suit—and forced a smile.

"Happy Birthday!" he said, and swept me up into a hug.

I felt my smile become real and I tightened my arms around his shoulders before he set me back down.

"Blair," he said, and he tucked a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. I flinched involuntarily, still feeling Chuck's fingers on my skin.

"Ben," I said. "I'm so glad to see you."

He smiled broadly and I thought about Serena's words from earlier. I studied Ben's face carefully. He was completely focused on me. His body posture was relaxed and happy, and I realized she was right. He was in love with me. In the back of my mind, I saw Chuck kneeling before me and I pushed the image out of my mind with a sip of champagne.

Ben led me to the center of the dance floor and I let him pull me into his arms. He was so familiar. We'd been friends for almost a decade, since our freshman year of Yale. We'd kissed once, after my Wharton graduation, but I was leaving for London the next day and was happy for the excuse. Truth told, there was nothing wrong with Ben. He was handsome, successful, nice, sweet, from a prominent Park Avenue family, incredibly wealthy… there was no reason not to be with him, except that he wasn't Chuck.

"I'm so happy you're back in New York," Ben said softly, "And you know I'm here for the long haul. And I've been in love with you for years."

I jolted back and looked up at Ben. The people around us moved away and I was acutely aware of the crowd beginning to watch us. "Ben, I—"

He touched my mouth softly.

"I hated being without you," he said. "And I don't want to ever be without you again. I know, Blair, I know that you haven't had it easy. But I can make you happy."

And then, oh god, he was kneeling in front of me and holding out a diamond ring. Tears spilled down my face and Ben mistook them for encouragement.

"I love you, Blair. Will you marry me?"

The room was silent. The orchestra stopped playing and I could hear my own ragged breaths as time slowed down. Something shifted in the room and I knew Chuck was there. I looked up and there he was, standing by the ballroom door, watching me and clutching his ring box in his hand. The light from the sparkling chandeliers bounced off the polished champagne flutes and I felt my feet tingling furiously. I looked back at Ben and opened my mouth to speak when suddenly, the room blurred and I fainted.

*****************************

"Blair?"

I groaned and tried to sit up before collapsing back onto a stack of silk pillows. I winced and looked over at Serena.

"I must say," she teased, "Two proposals in one night? That's impressive, B, even for you."

"I don't know what to say," I said. "Chuck? Ben? I fainted?"

"All very dramatic," she agreed. "Audrey would have been impressed."

"I don't want drama," I said. "I just want a normal life."

"B, I hate to tell you," she said, smoothing back my hair, "But you're much too extraordinary for an ordinary life."

I smiled wryly and pulled the covers around me, shutting my eyes against the light.

*****************************

Thankfully, Serena had brought me back to my apartment. She must have known I couldn't be in my old bedroom after a night like that. I stretched in my bed before getting up. I picked up a note from Serena asking me to call her if I needed anything. I smiled.

I pattered into the kitchen and picked up my phone. 2:37 a.m. I groaned and clicked through my missed calls. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Chuck, Ben, Ben—I paused. I knew that if I waited, I'd lose my nerve, so I grabbed my purse, pulled on my heels, and left the apartment.

*****************************

I knew from Serena that Chuck had maintained suite 1812 at the Palace, even when he'd been gone for months at a time. The doorman hadn't blinked when I gave him my name.

"Ah, yes, Blair Waldorf. You're on Mr. Bass's approved list."

"His approved list?" I questioned.

"Yes, ma'am. It's the list of people that are to be admitted upstairs at any time."

"A long list?" I probed.

"You and the van der Woodsens, ma'am. That's it."

"Oh," I said, but I could feel a smile on my face. I was the only woman on the list besides Chuck's family.

I headed to the elevator and found myself outside 1812. I knocked quietly, and he opened the door quickly.

We stood there for a long moment, me in his necklace and him in a rumpled suit. He leaned on the door frame and I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Don't ever leave me again," I said, and his face opened up and I was in his arms. He kissed me over and over, capturing my mouth with his and oh this, this was still the same. I felt like I was lost and found at the same time and we stumbled backwards into the bedroom, undressing each other and revealing what we'd been missing for years.

"Blair—" he said, but I kept kissing him, quieting him, because if I heard what he wanted to say I knew I'd never recover. He dipped his mouth to mine and I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling his warm skin on mine as he entered me. We looked at each other in the dark and he touched my face as he moved inside me, and we were one, moving together, and then it built inside me and washed over us both as he pulled me closer.

After, he rolled onto his side and drew me to him, the length of his body pressed against mine. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as his breath brushed my lips. He smiled at me as one corner of his mouth turned upwards. He spoke steadily, but I knew him well enough to detect the nervousness in his voice.

"Is that a yes?"

*****************************

To be continued... Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: "You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years..." Blair Waldorf returns to New York at 29, and Chuck has been preparing for this chance for a lifetime.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Gossip Girl, Blair, or Chuck.

*****************************

This is what I'd been missing, I realized, as I fell into his coffee eyes. Chuck's arms were around me, and his hands drifted over my bare back. He nuzzled against me tenderly, and something inside me melted.

"Say it again," I whispered.

"Should I get the ring?" he asked, and he started to roll over in bed, but I pressed my shoulder into his to still the movement.

"Not that," I said. "The eight letters."

He swallowed, and I could tell he was remembering all the times we'd been here before. In front of a Hamptons mansion, atop a roof in Brooklyn, beside a limousine just outside this building—we'd tried so many times to be honest, to be brave. I felt his hands shake slightly.

"Blair Waldorf," he started, and his eyes were shining at me and I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to cry.

"I love you," he said, and I finally breathed. "I love you," he repeated, more firmly this time. "I love you."

"Chuck Bass," I said, and he looked so hopeful that I almost broke, so I kissed him instead. I slipped down into the pillows and he moved on top of me, touching me carefully and studying me with expectant eyes. I kissed him again and lifted my chin as he hovered over me.

"I want to try," I said, "But Chuck, we can't get married."

His shoulders dropped and I kissed him quickly in an attempt to reassure him before he pulled back. "I should have known," he said as he stood up and pulled on a robe. "What, Blair, do you want to keep Mr. Perfect on the backburner while you have a few last times with me?"

"Chuck!" I felt that familiar anger burn through my veins as I wrapped the other hotel robe around me and strode over to him. I grabbed his arm. "You cannot honestly expect me to just jump into an engagement when I haven't even seen you for over a decade!"

"I've here the whole time, Blair! I watched you graduate from Yale, I saw that Ben guy kiss you on the day you finished Wharton, I read about your job and promotion in the paper—I've been working for this, for you, for years!" He spit out the sentences and then tore his eyes away from mine and looked to the left, his jaw clenched.

I stood before him and his words reverberated through me. I moved to him and placed my palms flat on his chest, and angled my face in front of his.

"Chuck," I said softly, and I saw his eyes glimmering, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and his shoulders collapsed underneath me as he buried his head in my hair. "I've been in love with you this whole time," I admitted to him. The confession freed something inside of me, and as soon as I said the words the truth within them hit me harder than I'd thought possible, and I clung to him, suddenly feeling vulnerable and horribly needy. I remembered then why I'd been so afraid, and I stroked his hair, trying to soothe away my own insecurities.

"Then marry me," he whispered into my neck.

"You know I want to say yes," I replied.

"Then say it," he said, and my eyes crinkled at the return of his old arrogance.

I paused. I could say it. I could agree to marry him right now and I knew what would happen. I would get swept up in him, in his life, and for awhile, it would be wonderful, a whirlwind of sex and lust and fire and money and adventure. He sensed my hesitation and stood up straight.

"Or at least tell me what I can do to convince you," he returned.

"I want to try," I said slowly, "To try you and me, to learn about each other again and—" I echoed his words from years before, "—and take it slow this time, to do it right."

He smirked at me. "I wouldn't call tonight a slow start, Waldorf."

"A marriage proposal and mind-blowing sex?" I replied, and his smile returned.

"Mind-blowing?" he teased. "Or maybe another kind of blow—"

"Bass!" I flirted, and he pulled me to him. I could feel him hard against me and tried to concentrate.

"You're saying I should woo you," he said.

"I don't know if I would have said 'woo' exactly, Bass," I said, "But I think maybe we should, you know, spend more than three hours together before we announce our impending nuptials."

"I don't want you announcing your impending nuptials with anyone else," he said darkly.

I froze in his arms. "There's nothing going on between me and Ben," I said. "He surprised me tonight."

"It wasn't pleasurable for me," he rasped. "Especially when I'd just been rejected."

"I'm not rejecting you," I said, "Just…" I searched for the right word, but nothing was appropriate, so I settled. "Postponing?"

"You know how to make a guy feel special, Waldorf," he drawled. "Fine. Postpone me. But I'd like to know I'm the only one in queue."

"How British of you, Bass," I replied. "I'll talk with Ben." Chuck's face narrowed and I clenched his shoulders. "And don't be mean. Ben has been good to me, and I want to stay friends with him if I can."

"Okay." He clipped the word out.

"Okay?" I said, and I kissed him. "Maybe you have changed."

"Maybe I've just learned that you with a lovesick guy friend is better than no you at all," he said, and he traced the outline of my mouth with his finger. I caught his fingertip in my mouth and gave him a small nip. "I'm going to ask you again," he murmured softly.

"Good," I retorted, and he smiled before a serious look settled over his face.

"I love you," he said, and he kissed me before I could say anything else.

*****************************

I leaned against the cab's upholstery, trying not to grin but failing miserably. The brisk air from the open window felt good on my flushed cheeks, and I touched the charms on my diamond necklace.

I tipped the driver double when we reached my apartment building and hurried upstairs. I entered my home and slid off my heels, stretching my calves.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf!" Serena's voice boomed from my front room. "You have some explaining to do!" She came around the corner and did a double-take at the sight of me in my party dress.

"S," I pleaded, but she was already laughing.

"And here I was all worried about you," she managed. "Oh, B, tell me, how is my stepbrother?"

"How did you know I was with Chuck?" I said.

"Your hair," she teased.

I looked in the hall mirror. I had telltale sex hair—finger-raked and alarmingly poofy. I pulled a ponytail holder out of a small box on the front table and smoothed it down before tying it up in a bun. I headed into my bedroom to change and Serena followed after me, flopping onto a velvet chaise.

"S," I sighed as I pulled on running capris and a long-sleeved t-shirt. "I missed him. It just--it was so good to be with him."

"Did you say yes?"

I bit my lip. "I told him to wait and ask me again," I said, suddenly nervous that I'd made a mistake.

Serena sat up. "And he agreed?"

I nodded and settled next to her, fidgeting with my ruby ring. I dipped my head. "Do you think I made the right decision?"

"B," she said, "You know I love you. And I love Chuck, in our own weird stepsibling way. I haven't wanted to say much about him to you because, well, because I didn't want you to get hurt again."

I looked at her.

"But B, what you've been doing, avoiding this altogether—it's not good for you. And besides," she said, loping an arm around me in a hug, "I can tell you are still crazy about ol' Chuckles."

I laughed. "I am, Serena," I said softly. "I still love him."

"Then see if it can work," she replied.

"I feel terrible about Ben," I whispered.

"If Ben really loves you," she reasoned, "He'll want you to be happy." She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "That's all I want."

"You know," I remarked, "If it works out with me and Chuck, we'll be sisters."

"We already are," she said, and I smiled.

*****************************

This, I decided, was going down in history as one of my best runs ever. The weather was lovely, with a cool bite that counteracted the warmness that accompanied the exercise. I'd kept a steady pace—perfect, I thought, considering the recent unsteadiness in my life—and my legs felt loose from the workout. I slowed to a walk, admiring the park.

I strolled through Central Park, wondering why I hadn't come here every weekend when I lived in the city. I remembered playing here with Serena, Chuck, and Nate when we were younger, and I recalled Chuck chasing me through the grass, pinning me down and untying my pigtails. Typical, I thought, and I felt myself smile at the memory of the four of us. Nate was living in Boston now, working as a fund manager for an environmentally-conscious investment group. He liked to say that he had a job his mother could brag about but still got to wear jeans to the office. He and Vanessa were living together there, and he'd told me that he was trying to convince her that marriage wasn't a bourgeois institution. I never thought, when I was playing here so many years ago, we'd all end up where we are, but somehow it feels right.

I took a sip of water from the fountains near Bethesda and headed out of the park. I swung my arms out in front of me and looked up at the sky, feeling lighter than I had in years.

*****************************

I headed home and showered, changing into a cream cashmere cardigan and a worn-in pair of jeans before settling down at my kitchen island. I flipped open my laptop and clicked through my bookmarked news sites, making a few notes for my meeting on Tuesday. My promotion allowed me to set my own hours, which I'd learned suited my personality. Serena said that I was like a woman possessed when I was inspired, and she was right—I could easily spend twelve hours a day working when a project took hold of me. I'd learned to relax during my down time, though, something I attributed to my time in London.

I looked down at my fingers on the keyboard and slid off my ruby ring before smiling and placing it over my left ring finger. I shook my head and slid the ring back onto my other hand. I hadn't thought of marriage in a long time. I'd considered a wedding with Nate—something formal and traditional, with the Vanderbilt ring and solemn vows.

I'd dreamed about marrying Chuck once. I went over to his suite the day after Thanksgiving with a pie, and he had answered the door in pajamas. He ordered a pair for me from Barneys, surprisingly conservative pale gray cashmere ones with loose pants and a wrap top. We spent the whole day on his couch, eating pie and turkey sandwiches and arguing over the remote. I fell asleep in his arms and woke up during the night to find him holding me, a blanket wrapped over us both. I turned to face him and his eyes fluttered open, smiling as he touched his nose to mine. Then he said—and I can still hear his voice now, because when he said it something in me lit up—"Well, Waldorf, I know what I'm thankful for." We moved from the couch to the bed and he unwrapped my top and we made love slowly, like we were forever and had all the time in the world. That night I'd slept with my head on his chest and dreamed about waking up with him every morning.

The buzzer on my apartment rang and I hurried over to the speaker.

"Mr. Charles Bass for you, Ms. Waldorf."

"Please send him up, Henry."

I let out a squeal and dashed around my apartment, cleaning up as best I could. I ran over to the hallway mirror and examined my reflection, then realized I was still in my casual clothes. He knocked and I grimaced at my appearance, knowing I didn't have time to change.

"Chuck," I purred, opening the door.

"Blair," he said, and he tugged me to him and shut the door behind us. We were up against one wall of my entryway, and he dragged his mouth down my neck before stepping back.

"Good afternoon," he smirked, and I pushed his chest to walk past him to the living room.

"You here for a reason, Bass?" I said.

"I think it's evident what I'm here for," he said, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "Or rather, who I'm here for."

"You are remarkably corny," I replied.

"I prefer to think I have a sort of classic charm," he said.

"You've certainly got something," I flirted.

We looked at each other and I felt warm all over, felling my skin blush pink. I swallowed and fidgeted with my ring.

"Well," he said. He adjusted his bow tie—oh, I missed those ridiculous bow ties—and moved toward me, touching my waist lightly, like he had the night before. He cleared his throat. "Waldorf, I came over to see if I could take you out."

"You're asking me out on a date?" I asked. I knew I was grinning but couldn't help myself.

"I've been instructed to take it slow," he rasped, and his breath tickled my ear.

"I'd love to, Chuck."

"Right now?"

"You know, I do have a life," I said.

"I know," he replied, more seriously than I would have anticipated. "I was hoping you might be able to fit me in." Our eyes met and I knew he was referring to more than today. I reached up and touched the nape of his neck before I kissed him softly. He drew me to him and stroked the small of my back.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I was thinking a movie," he said, "You know, Chuck and Blair going to the movies."

I was touched by the sentiment.

He continued. "Chuck and Blair holding hands," he said, and he reach up and threaded his fingers through mine.

"I love it," I said honestly.

"I love you," he said, and it still surprised me how easily he said it, with no prompting or expectations. He must have seen it in my eyes, because he kissed me once more and led me back toward the front door. I pulled my red coat out of the closet and he held it for me while I shrugged my arms inside. I looked down at the bottom button and attempted to close it while simultaneously opening my front door. I felt Chuck stiffen behind me and I looked up into Ben's blue eyes.

"Blair," he said desperately, and I froze.

*****************************

To be continued... Thank you very much for the reviews, your words mean so much to me!


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: "You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years..." Blair Waldorf returns to New York at 29, and Chuck has been preparing for this chance for a lifetime.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Gossip Girl, Blair, or Chuck.

*****************************

My stomach twisted when Ben said my name, and I watched his eyes flick to Chuck's face, then back to mine in sudden recognition. The look in his blue eyes was strangely familiar, and empathy rushed through me. I knew how it felt, to be deserving but not get what you thought you deserved. I'd played that role before and I still knew the script by heart.

I turned to Chuck. "Can you give us a minute?" I said, in what I hoped was a calm, even tone. I gave him a small smile, trying to reassure him and his jaw clenched.

"I'll be down in the car," he replied, and he hesitated over me before turning to leave. I knew him well enough to tell he'd thought about kissing me as a way to mark his territory, but he'd resisted the impulse. I was impressed.

"Come in," I said to Ben, and he followed me into the living room and sat beside me on the couch.

"So that explains it," he said in a neutral tone. He knew all about Chuck Bass.

I don't like to think about how Ben and I met. Midway through my second week at Yale, I was convinced I'd made a mistake. I felt myself withdrawing, falling back into my old pattern of counting out twelve bites of every meal and desperately avoiding the bathroom afterward. There was no Queen B at Yale--I was just Blair Waldorf, and that didn't mean anything to anyone.

Ben and I were partnered on a political science project about Native American water rights, and I showed up to his dorm room with my usual arsenal of study materials. He went down the hall to get some drinks from the vending machine and I used the opportunity to prop up the charts I'd made, featuring case outlines, relevant facts, and the weaknesses of previous studies. He came back and choked on his root beer, and I'd immediately regretted including the pie chart. Then he'd grinned at me and pulled out a similar chart from his desk drawer.

"See," he'd drawled, "I should have thought about using color."

I had smiled back at him and suddenly felt like maybe I could belong at Yale after all.

Now that same sweet boy was sitting next to me, and I could tell he wanted me to have some sort of epiphany and realize that he was the one for me. I spoke softly.

"Ben, last night--"

He interrupted. "I already know what you're going to say." I bowed my head and he continued. "You're going to tell me what you tell me when you've had too much champagne. You'll tell me about how he watched you dance at the burlesque club, about your seventeenth birthday, about being compared to his father's Arabian horses, about his toast at the wedding, about the week you spent together afterward, how he abandoned your trip to Tuscany, about the white party, about the blackout, about the Brooklyn rooftop and how he came to your bedroom afterward, about when you told him you loved him and how it fell apart."

My throat clinched and goosebumps rose up on my skin.

"I know, Blair. I know you." Ben took my hand in his and stroked it gently before squeezing my palm. I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "Just tell me that you think it's going to work with you two, that he'll treat you right."

"He will," I replied, and a tear slipped out. "Ben, I have to see if he and I can work."

"I love you, Blair," he said, and his tone was even. "And I'm in love with you, too, but I can accept that you don't feel the same way. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"Me neither," I whispered.

He pulled me close and we hugged. He smiled at me when we separated. "Let him know that I'm watching him," he teased.

"He'd probably say the same thing about you," I replied, and Ben laughed like nothing had changed.

*****************************

I said goodbye to Ben and splashed some water on my face before heading downstairs. Chuck was pacing outside his limo with his hands in his pockets. He watched me move through the lobby and his face lit up. Seeing him smile sent a happy shiver through me and I skipped a little as I pushed open the glass door and walked towards him.

"Hi," I said, and he put a hand on each of my cheeks and kissed me hard on the mouth before moving his lips over mine with long, slow kisses. My hands hung limply at my sides and vaguely, I knew I was in trouble because this man can kiss. Chuck had the power to transport me, to make me feel like we were in our own world of two, and it both terrified and thrilled me.

He let a whisper of space between us and pressed his forehead to mine. "I met him," he said.

"Ben?" I replied dumbly.

He nodded and we got into the limo. I slid against him, trying to reassure him.

He paused, as if decided what to say. "He seems decent."

"He is, Chuck," I replied. "He just--he wants what's best for me."

"And what's that, Waldorf?"

I turned to him and straddled his thighs, feeling his breath hitch. Our bodies brushed and then I let my weight press against him as he held onto my hips.

"That'd be you, Bass," I purred, and I kissed the soft place behind his ear as he stilled beneath me. I pulled back and watched his face. The thing most people didn't know about Chuck Bass was that he was a romantic at heart. Right now, he had a certain softness across his face, this wondering and wonderful look that turned me into a teenager again, feeling new and free. I touched his mouth and he caught my hand in his, unfurling my fingers to place a kiss on my open palm.

"I missed you," he whispered, and I smiled.

"I missed you more," I confessed, and he looked up at me, his caramel eyes shining.

"Impossible," he said, and he pulled me to his side and put his arms around me, holding me like he was afraid I was a dream.

*****************************

Chuck had managed to find a screening of Breakfast at Tiffany's, or so he claimed. I suspected he'd paid off the theater to show the old movie, but I was flattered by the effort. We ordered drinks and popcorn and Junior Mints—I'd insisted on the Junior Mints, telling Chuck that we'd make popcorn and Junior Mint bites and his world would change—and he grappled with the haul, insisting that he could carry it all. I watched him struggle for a moment, the moisture from the outside of the Cokes pressing wet droplets onto his suit jacket, and then lifted the popcorn and candy from his hands.

"You don't have to do everything yourself," I said.

"I could have done it alone," he huffed.

"Yes," I said. "I know. You are very manly." I gave him a quick kiss and we made our way to our seats, arranging our coats and snacks around us. He was quiet and I regarded his profile. He smoothed his pants and played with the clasp on his watch.

"Blair," he said, and his voice cracked on my name, but I knew what he was going to say before he said it, so I touched his arm, drawing circles on the thin fabric.

"I'm here," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

I knew I wasn't. I was tied to Chuck through memory and dreams. We had some sort of connection that I would never be able to put into words, but I could feel it whenever he was near me, a constant current that sizzled between us. I could never leave him, but underneath my bravado I could feel fear gnawing inside me, that hollow pit that remembered waking up to a letter with three lines and an empty bed.

"I won't leave," he uttered, looking into my eyes like he was swearing an oath. "I promise, Blair."

I wanted to say I believed him, but instead I kept tracing patterns on his forearms.

"Blair," he repeated, and I looked up at him. "I'm going to prove it to you."

He said it as a factual statement, and his eyes held an intensity that calmed me inside, and I believed him this time.

"You know," I whispered, attempting to lighten the mood as the theater dimmed. "You're much too handsome."

"So I've been told," he rasped, and I pushed his arm teasingly as the movie began.

*****************************

Breakfast at Tiffany's is my favorite movie. It feels like an old friend. I can watch it when I'm in any sort of mood, and there's something about the way Holly lives that feels familiar. Maybe it's that she's looking for love, real love, the kind that takes hold of your soul and shakes everything about you. Loving like that, you'll never be the same as you were before and you would never want to be.

I've watched it with Chuck before. We were fourteen, and it was summertime. Nate and Serena were splashing around in the pool at the Hamptons house, and Chuck and I were bored with the sunshine. I'd had the foresight to claim the television and he'd sat next to me, complaining the whole time. But when Audrey sang "Moon River" he'd listened carefully, then grabbed the remote away from me to rewind to the beginning of the song. He stood up and held out his hand.

I was grouchy from Nate's inattention and pushed away Chuck's arm, but he got me on my feet anyway.

"Let's do that dance from Miss Porter's," he said, "You're the best girl in the class."

I was flattered that he'd noticed and acquiesced.

He moved me around the room in the slow waltz we'd learned in dancing school. He held my gaze the whole time, and in the background Audrey sang about two drifters out to see the world. I saw myself in his dark eyes and thought that maybe I was wrong, that maybe there was something special about Chuck Bass. I looked away, my stare slipping down to his pillowy lips, then back to his eyes again. I could hear the music all around us and it sounded different than I remembered.

"You're prettier than Serena," he stated.

"You're a liar," I said, feeling uncomfortable, because everyone knew Serena was the prettiest.

"Not about this," he said, and my skin hummed.

"Thanks," I managed, and he smiled.

We danced for a few more moments, then he slid his hands down my hips to cup my ass.

"Chuck!" I yelled and slapped his hands away. He smirked at me and walked out of the room, and I felt oddly relieved as I turned my attention back to the movie.

Now, so many years later, he sat next to me again as I watched him watch the movie. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Being with him had brought a part of me back to life. He looked over at me, taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb over my wrist.

Audrey smiled on the screen and I thought that maybe we'd both get our happy endings after all.

*****************************

"Since you planned the movie," I said, "I think it's only fair that I get to plan the next part of the evening."

He raised his eyebrows and stretched out his legs in the limo as the car glided through the Manhattan traffic.

"I was thinking," I continued, "That we should get you out of this suit--"

"I like where you're going with this," he cracked, and I elbowed him, grinning.

"And into some more casual clothes," I said.

"You don't like the suit?"

I scanned his body. He was all lines and angles, toned and lean in his dark gray wool suit. I slid my hand up over his pale blue shirt and toyed with his purple paisley bow tie, running my fingers across the sides of his neck.

"You know you look delicious in suits," I murmured, and he smirked.

"That's because I am delicious," he said, and I kissed him. He was right--he always tasted so good, almost bittersweet and intoxicating. His mouth opened under mine and I felt his tongue dance over my lips before we parted. "But you, Waldorf," he said, sweeping my hair back, "You're my favorite brand."

I tossed my hair back. "As I was saying," I said, and he squeezed my thigh, "Let's get something casual for you to wear, get take-out, and go back to my apartment."

"And will I be staying there?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'd say you have a good shot," I said, and he ran his hands up my thigh. I gasped and he smiled. "A very good shot."

"That's better," he said, and his hands kept moving and I couldn't think anymore.

*****************************

We stopped off at 1812 and Chuck packed a bag, then changed into dark jeans and a chocolate brown sweater that matched his eyes. I realized I was staring again and he gave me one of those Chuck Bass looks that told me he knew exactly the kind of thoughts running through my head, and he approved of those thoughts wholeheartedly.

He'd arranged for the Palace kitchen to make us a basket and we picked it up before heading to my place. And then we were alone in my apartment, standing at the kitchen island, both of us in jeans and bare feet as we unwrapped turkey sandwiches.

"I remember that you liked these," he said, and I smiled.

"Ooh, and truffle French fries!" I exclaimed, opening up the box and sliding onto one of my stools.

Chuck tilted his head and bit the fry I was holding.

"You do realize that you are literally eating out of my hand," I said dryly, helping myself to another fry.

"What do you want me to do about it, Waldorf?" he asked.

"Nothing," I flirted. "I love it."

We ate our dinner, stealing bites off each other's plates and kissing, and I couldn't help but imagine a whole life like this, years filled with affection and laughing and him, always him. I wiped my hands on my napkin and stood up.

"I'll be right back," I said, averting his eyes as I headed to my bathroom.

Years ago, I would have thrown up. Sometimes I catch myself looking at the toilet as soon as I enter a bathroom, seeing my younger self on her knees with her finger down her throat and tears on her face. But tonight, I headed directly for the mirror. My hair was swept to one side in loose waves, slightly mussed from Chuck's hands. My eyes were maybe a half-shade lighter, or maybe just a little brighter, and my lips were slightly swollen from kissing. I put my hands on the cool marble counter and breathed. I could already feel myself falling, and I was terrified of hitting bottom.

I washed my hands and returned to the kitchen. His body was turned toward me and he was watching me with measured eyes.

"Blair?" he asked, and I knew what he was thinking.

"Oh," I blurted, "No, Chuck, I didn't--I haven't for a long time. Since before Yale," I said, and his shoulders relaxed. He stood up and embraced me.

"You'd tell me, right?" he whispered. "You'd tell me if anything was wrong?"

I wrapped my arms around his back and felt his warmth radiating through the soft sweater. "Nothing's wrong," I said, and I realized I hadn't answered his question. I felt his palm gently stroking the back of my head and I closed my eyes, breathing into him. He held me in his arms, supporting my back with his open hand. I pulled back a little.

"Blair," he whispered.

I grazed my fingers over his lips. "I want this to work," I said. "Last night and today have been… amazing."

He waited for me to continue.

"I'm just scared," I confessed, and his face fell so I spoke quickly. "Not of you," I said reassuringly, "The way I feel about you, Chuck, it takes hold of me, and being with you again makes me think about the last time we were together and how it ended."

He regarded me carefully and touched my cheek.

"It's not going to end," he said steadily. "I need you, Waldorf, and I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. I'm in love with you," and his voice broke over the words, "Completely, utterly in love with you. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought of you."

I smiled. "Really?"

He nodded, and I kissed him. I couldn't get enough of him, and our kisses grew stronger and deeper and I led him, still in his arms, over to my couch and we toppled onto the cushions.

"Blair," he growled, and I slid my hands underneath this sweater. The muscles of his back were strong and defined, and I pressed my palms into his flesh. He could never be close enough to me, I would never have enough of Chuck Bass, and I felt myself wanting in a way I hadn't in years. It was boiling inside me, this need for him that was either a terrible weakness or my greatest source of strength. I could feel myself losing control and I pulled back and took in a short deep breath.

"Oh," I said, half a moan and half an exclamation.

"Can I ask you again now?" he rasped.

I propped myself up on my elbows as he moved to one side of me.

"Chuck," I murmured.

"Well, Waldorf," he said, "You give me no choice. If I have to wait to give you your original birthday present…"

I blushed, thinking of that diamond engagement ring. I wondered where it was waiting. He stood and went over to his overnight bag and walked back to me, holding a box with a purple silk ribbon.

"Then I suppose that this will have to serve as a substitute birthday gift," he finished, placing the box in my hands.

"Bass," I said wonderingly.

"Open it," he urged.

I untied the ribbon and opened the box. A blue Tiffany's case was nestled inside and I unsnapped the folds to reveal a platinum chain dotted with diamonds. A diamond and South Sea pearl pendant hung from the center.

"I thought," he said, taking the necklace out of the case and clasping it around my neck, "That you needed something from me to wear every day."

"It's lovely," I said, and I reached up to touch the pearl. My hand grazed his and he placed a soft kiss on my shoulder, just like I remembered from all those years ago. I had replayed that scene in my mind so many times that it was almost as though I hadn't lived it, but had watched it in a favorite movie.

"I've heard," he said in that honey voice, "That the ancient Greeks would give pearls to a bride for her wedding day, as a blessing and as a way to ward off any future tears."

"Chuck Bass," I whispered.

"Blair Waldorf," he replied.

We were looking into each other's eyes and his necklace was around my neck, and when we said each other's names I could feel a most solemn vow swirl around us, unspoken but understood.

*****************************

That night, we lay beside each other in my bed, talking softly. He told me about his travels with Bass Industries, about running the company and finishing his degree from Harvard with remote classes. I talked about my job and why I loved it, about the feeling of transforming a broken building into something beautiful. We talked and laughed until the middle of the night, and our conversation was interspersed with kissing and touching.

Our lips parted from one of our kisses and I stayed pressed against him. I swung one leg over his thighs and sat on top of him. Slowly, I pulled off my camisole and my hair fell across my bare skin. I resisted the impulse to cover myself and watched his face. His eyes crinkled around the sides and he looked relaxed, happy, and I grabbed a fistful of his white t-shirt and pulled him up to meet me. I dragged the t-shirt up and over his head, flinging it to a corner of my bedroom. His chest hair tickled my breasts and I kissed him before he tilted backwards and smoothly placed me under him. My hair spread out on the pillow and he ran his hands down my body.

"You're so beautiful," he said gruffly, and then our lips met again and I forgot everything except him and me and how good life could be.

*****************************

"Good morning," I murmured, and Chuck's eyes fluttered open. His hair was adorably mussed and I rolled over onto him, kissing him aggressively.

"Very good morning," he rasped and I squealed when he squeezed me tight.

My cell phone rang and Chuck groaned as he released me.

"Miss Waldorf, it's Annie," my secretary said.

"Annie, please call me Blair," I reminded.

"Blair," she said, and her nervousness was palpable, "The Kensington Group called and they want to meet this afternoon instead of tomorrow."

My heart sank. I was ready for the meeting, but I'd already been fantasized about another free day with nothing to do but Chuck Bass.

"Schedule them for three o'clock," I said. "And please prep the conference room and prepare the reports I left in your inbox."

"Yes Miss—Blair," Annie said.

I hung up and rolled back over to Chuck.

"I have to go into the office," I complained, and he pouted. "But we have until three."

He considered this. "That's seven hours from now, Waldorf," he said slowly, "Almost enough time for what I have planned for you." He rolled back on top of me and I rose up to meet his kiss.

*****************************

"Thank you very much for your time," I said smoothly, shaking Mr. Kensington's hand.

The presentation had gone flawlessly. I could tell the group was impressed by the proposal and I knew I had been on my game. After Chuck left at noon, I'd gotten ready for the meeting, taking extra care in my appearance so I could meet up with him afterward. My slim Dior suit fit perfectly, and I'd added nude Louboutin heels to make my legs look longer. My new necklace complimented my classic pearl and diamond earrings, and my hair had cooperated, forming polished waves around my face.

"I must admit that we came here with very high expectations, Miss Waldorf," Mr. Kensington said, "Yet you have somehow managed to exceed them."

"I appreciate the compliment," I returned, "And I look forward to doing business with you."

"We'll have our answer to you by the end of the week," he said, and I flinched.

"I apologize," I said, "But I understood that our relationship was secure."

"It's nothing about you or your proposal," the older man stammered, "But another offer came in for the Morgenshire property."

"May I inquire about the origin of said offer?" I said. I was all politeness but my killer instincts were waking up inside me.

"I shouldn't disclose it," said Mr. Kensington, and I looked at him with wide eyes. He caved. "It came in right before the meeting."

No one knew about this deal. If we had a leak, I had to find out who it was and dispose of them immediately. I smiled sweetly. "And who made the offer?"

He paused, and I nodded at him encouragingly before he finally answered.

"Bass Industries."

*****************************

To be continued… I would love to hear your thoughts and truly appreciate the reviews. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The older man's words reverberated through me as I marched through the halls of Bass Industries. My Louboutins clicked out machine gun fire on the marble floors and I could feel my veins pulsing under my skin. I could feel people watching me but I had my mask on, readying myself for what was to come. The employees moved out of my way and I pushed past Chuck's secretary's desk and threw open his office door. He stood to greet me with a smile that slid off his face at the sight of my clenched fists.

"You bastard," I said in a low voice, and he stepped toward me. I put my hand up and he stilled.

"Tell me," I continued, "Did you make an offer on the Morgenshire property?"

"Blair, I wanted to—"

"Yes or no," I said, and I felt my heart leap up into my throat with hope. I knew what the answer would be and my blood pounded through my veins.

His eyes crinkled with worried. "It's not—"

"Yes or no!" I bit down on the words, flinging the challenge at him.

He swallowed and looked down, and spoke so softly I almost didn't hear him. "Yes."

My shoulders dropped down to my sides and I watched him come towards me. He reached out for my waist and I whirled away, striding back down the hall and willing myself to stay calm. I dug half moons into the palms of my hand and tried to focus on that physical pain. My hand shook as I pressed the call button for the elevator.

Hazily, I heard my name and then his hand closed around my wrist as he spun me around to face him. I paused for the briefest of moments, and this terrible sensation came over me when I saw pain in his eyes and my heart constricted in my chest. Hurt radiated through my body and I blinked before I told a terrible lie in a deadened voice.

"We are done."

I removed my wrist from his hand and pushed through the stairway doors, unable to stand there for a single second more to wait for the elevator. I took the stairs quickly, one after another after another, so fast that it almost felt like falling.

***************

I called my secretary and had her messenger over the Kensington paperwork. I'd be damned if Chuck was going to make a fool of me and steal the Morgenshire property. I felt dazed, almost drugged, as I traveled back to my apartment. I just saw his face in front of me, telling me he loved me, as I numbly packed my suitcase and work tote. I slid in the paperwork for the deal and his loving eyes were replaced with a surge of white-hot betrayal.

I couldn't stay at the apartment—I knew him. He would come to see me, and once he realized I wasn't there he'd try my old penthouse. I left my building and hailed a cab, giving the driver Serena and Dan's address. He wouldn't think to look for me in Brooklyn, at least not right away.

My ruby ring glinted in the sunshine and I bit down on my lower lip. I could already feel myself imagining excuses for him, wanting desperately to go back to yesterday. I had spent so many years imagining that I was over him, that my heart had healed completely, but the truth was—the truth had always been—that I was tied to Chuck, bound to him, wrapped up in him with a force I couldn't understand. We'd known each other as children, grown up together, and still, after all the tears and pain, I knew we could be happy together.

The car jolted over a pothole and slowed to a stop outside the brownstone. I paid the driver and grabbed my bags. Serena answered the door and I couldn't help myself. Tears slid down my face and at once, she knew what happened.

"Oh, B," she whispered, and she put her arm around me and led me into the living room.

***************

Hours later, I was wrapped up in a cashmere blanket on the couch, sipping a glass of white wine. Serena had listened, not saying much, and I felt exhausted.

"Blair," she said, and from her measured tone I knew what was coming. "I know what he did—going after your deal, is terrible."

"Serena," I cut her off, "It's not just that. He knew, S. He always have to take something from me."

"B," she said, and swallowed. "You know I love you, and I'm always on your side, but I know that's not true. Chuck loves you."

"Well, sure!" I exclaimed sarcastically, and I straightened in my seat, setting my glass down on the coffee table. "Gosh golly, I forgot that loving someone is all about hurting them and ignoring them for years. Why, that must mean that Lord Marcus is out there pining for me too! I am so lucky!"

"Blair!"

I looked over at Serena. Her voice had been louder than normal, and all at once I realized she was hiding something.

"Serena," I breathed, and she met my gaze. Her blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

"He came to see me during your first year at Yale," she confessed, toying with the hem of her dress. I could see wet spots forming on the silk as she cried. "He told me about the day of Bart's funeral. He—" she drew in a ragged breath, "He said he was in love with you. He wanted to go see you."

I was frozen in place.

"I told him you were just starting to be feel comfortable at Yale," she continued, "And he asked me if you were happy, and I said yes."

"He wanted to come see me," I murmured.

"I'm so sorry, B," she said as she took my hands. "I didn't know the depth of what happened between you two, and I wanted to say something, but you never mentioned him and I… I'm sorry." Her voice trailed off.

I shook my head. "You couldn't have known," I acknowledged. "I didn't even admit it to myself." I stood up.

"Blair," she said plaintively.

"I have to go," I said. Serena's eyes were welling up again, so I managed a smile. "It's not you, I'm not mad. I just need to be somewhere else—somewhere I can just get away and think and work on this deal."

"Oh!" She jumped up and clapped her hands. "I have the perfect place!"

I raised an eyebrow and followed her out of the room.

***************

Three hours later, I was standing on the porch of a log cabin. Serena had convinced me that the place she and Dan had purchased as a writing retreat would be the perfect spot for me to relax. It was, I had to admit, beautiful. The cabin sat on the edge of the Catskill State Park on ten acres of woodlands. I clicked the automatic lock button on my remote control keychain and walked around to the backyard. A small creek wove through the back lawn and I continued around to the front of the house, admiring the summer flowers clinging to the autumn leaves.

I shivered inside the cold cabin and started a fire in the fireplace, grateful to my London friends for teaching me how to create a slow burn. I took sheets out of the front closet per Serena's instructions and made up the bed, inhaling the scent of fabric softener. I pulled a cashmere throw out of my suitcase and laid it on top, smoothing the fabric taunt across the mattress.

I sat down at the desk. The sun was setting and the tree branches danced in the wind. I looked toward the horizon and saw stones in a crumbling arch in the distance. I unpacked and plugged in my laptop, splaying the paperwork for the Kensington deal across the smooth surface. I looked down at the photo of the Morgenshire building.

A few days before the debutante ball, all these years ago, Chuck and I had snuck away from the welcoming tea in the ballroom of the Morgenshire building. We exchanged glances as we made our way up the sweeping staircase, and his fingers brushed against mine before he clasped my hand tentatively. I'd squeezed his hand back, trying to reassure him, and one side of his mouth edged up in a smile. Upstairs, we slipped into the empty library and lost ourselves in the maze of shelves. I remember that I was expecting him to push me against a row of books and take me there, but he'd kissed me gently instead, just once, and leaned close to me. He ran his hands over my skin as though memorizing me, and we'd stayed there for a long while, kissing and touching and whispering to each other.

It wasn't just a building. The Morgenshire was where I'd first seen a future with Chuck Bass, a glimpse of what could be. I had thought then, at that moment, that maybe this wasn't just a schoolgirl crush or passing lust, but something real. I wanted to buy that house, to restore it to the glory days and maybe, just maybe, buy it back for myself one day.

I looked down at the paperwork. My assistant had managed to find out the details of the Bass offer and I read through the file slowly. The Bass offer was impossibly strong. My firm couldn't match it by half.

Idly, I picked up my cell phone, delighted to see that Serena hadn't lied about the signal strength. I hit speed dial 7 and waited for Ben's answer. The sound of his voice was soothing, and I told him what happened.

"Blair," he said, after I'd explained about the deal and the Bass counteroffer for the Morgenshire property, "Haven't you told me about this place before?"

I looked up at the ceiling. The pieces of wood were folded together in stark geometry. "Yes," I whispered.

"You were there with him?" he said. I didn't reply, and he knew me well enough to take me silence as agreement, and continued. "It seems to me that maybe he didn't make the offer to be against you, Blair. Maybe he wanted to buy it for you."

Something washed over me and goosebumps appeared on my skin. I wanted to hope, to believe it could be true. "It would be just like him," I managed.

"So I gathered," Ben said, and I laughed for the first time in hours.

"You'll never guess where I am," I said, and we talked for a long while before hanging up.

The fire crackled behind me and I rose up from the desk chair and settled onto the loveseat. I laid my head on a pillow and watched the yellow blend with the orange and red.

***************

I awoke with a start. The pounding on the front door vibrated through the window panes and a steady, heavy rainfall made it impossible to see out. I crept to the door quietly, trying to see who was there.

"Blair!"

I didn't think. I heard his voice and threw open the door. He was standing on the front desk, and his suit was soaked through. I pulled him inside and locked the door behind us before leading him to the fire. He was pale and his skin was cold to the touch, and I shivered I peeled off his blazer. He grabbed my wrist and I looked up at his desperate eyes. I remembered what Ben had suggested, and then Chuck's mouth parted wordlessly and I didn't care about anything except him and us together.

"It's okay," I reassured him, and when I said it, I believed myself.

He seemed mollified and I tossed his jacket across the back of a chair and started to unbutton his shirt halfway. He raised his arms and I pulled it off. We stood there for a brief moment, looking at each other in the quiet cabin, and I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my chest into his bare skin. The sensation of the contact lit me up inside and I nuzzled against him, feeling him clutch at my sides. His eyes were dark as he waited for my reaction to him. I saw tiny creases on the edges of his eyes—he was worried. I touched the nape of his neck one, twice, three times and his eyelids fluttered before pulling me closer.

I could feel his heartbeat and it seemed so unlikely that we would be here like this. I wondered what the chances were of two people like us finding each other. I leaned forward and whispered, "I'm sorry." And I was. I was sorry for everything that had kept us apart, and I was sorry for not trying harder to keep us together.

At the sound of my words he shuddered against me and his breath licked at my ear as he said, "No."

I pulled back.

"It was my fault," he said. "I should have remembered when you said Kensington… I read that they'd acquired Morgenshire but I wasn't thinking."

I let him over to the couch and we sat down.

"That morning," he said, and I interrupted.

"Your pants," I smiled and he stood again. He slid off the rain-soaked fabric and I wrapped us in a cashmere throw. He sat down and I followed, sliding onto his lap. His arms went around me and he pulled me close to him.

"Ten years ago, I told my legal department to make a bid for the Morgenshire property if it ever became available. Price was no object," he said gravely, and I pulled the blanket tighter around his. His skin was beginning to warm and I place a soft kiss on his collarbone.

"Three years ago, the Fallons—the current owners—floated the idea of selling it. I made a generous offer, but they decided to hold onto it. I told counsel to offer triple if the chance to buy it came again."

I swallowed, hope growing within me even as I tried to steady myself.

"And why would you do that?" I whispered.

He lifted his chin and met my eyes. My lips wavered.

"Because," he said simply, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said, and he kissed me softly before moving his mouth over mine more quickly. We leaned back on the couch and he was over me, inside me, and all I could feel was him and the fire and warmth, sweet warmth, on my skin.

***************

Later, we moved to the bed, and I rested my head on his chest, dragging my finger over his bare chest as I traced out the letters of my name.

"It was supposed to be for us," he murmured, and I smiled.

"The Morgenshire house?"

"Waldorf," he growled, "I've been thinking about you and me in that house since that time in the library."

I propped myself up on one elbow and kissed him, skimming my tongue over his bottom lip. "It's yours," I said. "My firm can't even come close to a counter."

"I don't want it to be mine," he returned, holding my hips and turning us over so he was on top of me. I felt the hard length of his body and arched up to meet him.

"Blair," he said, "I want it to be ours. Our home," he whispered, and the word make my skin hum.

"Bass," I began, trying to get the words out as he quite distractingly kissed a path down my neck, my breast, my chest, oh—

"Ask me again."

He stopped with his ministrations and looked up at me. His eyes were completely focused on me.

"I'd like it if you'd speak with my parents," I said awkwardly, "And I know it's old-fashioned, but it would mean a lot to me."

"You mean it?" He had an element of boyish wonder in his voice, and I smiled.

"If the offer's still good."

"Waldorf," he said, and kissed me hard, "I want you as my wife."

His lips crashed into mine again and I'd noticed that this time, when he said wife, it sounded like a promise.


End file.
